


Dream

by witchway



Series: Xander On The Menu [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Dream Sex, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29911362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchway/pseuds/witchway
Summary: In which Xander contemplates his relationship with Spike, what words define him, and the difference between right and wrong.And also in which nearly every pairing you could possibly consider will also appear.
Relationships: Buffy/Faith, Buffy/Xander, Giles/Books, Giles/Xander, Spike/Dawn, Spike/Xander, Willow Rosenberg/Spike, Xander Harris/Daniel "Oz" Osbourne, Xander Harris/Spike, Xander Harris/Tara Maclay
Series: Xander On The Menu [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151750
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	1. Pairing:  Spike/Xander    Giles/Books

_**That’s why Angelus couldn’t take his Childe coming in all bedraggled like that, but me….** _

_**“Oh I loved my Dru. I workshipped her. She was like a wildchild of the woods, like a Druidess, like a Pagan Priestess. She’d come to me with soiled knees ‘n soiled hands and muddy face, alive and hot and real and BLOODY HELL was she ready for a shag! She’d feed me and I’d worship my Goddess for hours……”** _

_*** * *** _

“Oh, but I am ever so _dirty_...” Drusilla was telling him. She stood on the turret dressed in an exquisite burgundy overdress. Xander was not surprised to see that she was a princess with two tell-tale spots on the fabric where she had been kneeling in the mud. “By my faith, ‘tis quite all right, I’m sure,” Xander said, walking passed her. They were finished stargazing and he was eager to find Sir William. “Oh please, don’t bother,” he said politely as she leaned in to bite his neck.

“It’s not _that_ kind of dream.”  
  
He followed the sound of raucous voices and stepped inside the feasting hall, where the knights were still clanking their tankards in endless toasts and some squires were playing at the bowls. The queen and her ladies had only just finished gathering the used trenchers and had stopped to tease one blushing minstrel, (the second one was trying to hide behind a tapestry.) There on the Espresso-Pump-couch he was overjoyed to see himself already sitting beside Spike.

But he was a little alarmed to see _all his armor was gone_ , and he had nothing but a poet shirt and breeches to protect him from Sir William's roaming hands. His hair was longer, curlier, (but still proper) and Spike, a half-head taller than he, insisted on nuzzling his angled, proper nose into said hair every so often. They sat side-by-very-close-side, legs touching, Spike’s arm casually draped around his shoulders, Xander’s hand with a death-grip on his former sponsor’s leg. Xander-at-the-door grinned sheepishly for the sake of the newly made knight sitting on the Espresso-Pump-couch (he was in no way surprised to see it was the exact same one from his “Giles sings ‘Behind Blue Eyes’ to me after the club closes dream.”) He knew the young knight was filled with relief and joy and trepidation…..relief and joy because his position in the room announced to all that his former sponsor, the notorious Sir William Spike, Count of Pratt, was staking his claim now that his squire was a Knight and an Equal….. trepidation since, obviously, he found himself sitting thigh-to-thigh with the legendary deviant Count of Pratt, who no longer considered him a hands-off-squire but rather a anything-now-goes Equal.  
  
Giles was there, also, and young Sir Alexander was in no way surprised to see how well he fit in wearing his usual librarian attire, and he was discussing, as usual, a book. Sir Spike interrupted to announce, “On the morrow we are off to church. We shall put on all our best clothes and walk to the abbey, where we shall all sit in pews until the sanctuary is quite crowded, and we shall sit there for hours without the benefit of air conditioning. I promise it shall be most unpleasant.”  
  
“Why then go at all?” Alexander inquired.  
  
“We _must_ go to church. It is where the holy things are. It is there where they tell us what is right and wrong.”  
  
“Do you listen?” he asked his rakehell daringly, who leaned in to touch his head, grinning in approval.  
  
“My good Sir Knight,” he purred, his grin growing more wicked all the time, “If it were not for they who tell me what is right, how would I know how to do the wrong?”  
  
Xander glowed, inordinately proud of himself for amusing the older man. “I would think such a ….such a scoundrel as yourself would simply trust your instincts.”  
  
The smile remained, but the purr became something closer to a growl, and Xander found himself pulling back suddenly…..surely the man who had been his teacher, the man who had (praise the saints) just staked his claim the very day Alexander became a knight, verily he did not mean to kiss him here in the feasting hall?  
  
“For God’s sakes quit tormenting the boy, by the rood, man,” Giles was scolding, and Spike turned to him and hissed at the hated language. Xander found himself rubbing the knee beneath his hand, hoping to spare Rupert Spike’s wrath; it was important to him that the men not quarrel.  
  
“Sir Alexander, make no mistake,” Giles was saying. “The answers are not to be found in church, they are to be found in books.”  
  
“Yet it is impossible to read in dreams,” Spike snapped back, then turned back to Alexander, grinning again, regaining his conspirator’s tone. “Rupert is certainly the expert on what is ‘right.’ The queen weans he is quite married to those books, you know.”  
  
“If I may beg to differ, my dear Count,” Xander said boldly, “Rupert is not the expert on right and wrong, he is the expert on correct and incorrect.”  
  
“They are quite the same thing!” the librarian protested.  
  
“I'faith, but they are not the same,” the young knight said steadily, (as best he could, Spike’s thumb stroking the back of his neck was becoming most distracting.) “For there is a difference in what is right and what is morally correct. There is an incorrect way to play at the bowls, and there is an immoral way to cheat your fellow man. Come now, don’t be angry….” He said gently, hoping to dissuade the standing man from his irritation – it was important that he retain Rupert’s approval, so when the librarian handed him the large book he took it eagerly.  
  
“What do you think of this, then?” the man was asking him, and Xander arranged the leather-bound volume on his lap so that Spike could look at the single picture, also.  
  
The picture was of a nude woman’s torso. Xander realized his predicament instantly….was he to answer “I find this very interesting,” thus pleasing Rupert, or “I find this of no interest,” to please the man stroking his neck with knowing fingertips?  
  
“I find this most improper” he squeaked, and was not surprised when the two worldly men laughed at his innocence, and left him alone.  
  
“Ivory,” Spike was saying, placing his thumb firmly between the breasts of the nude woman, and Xander realized he was holding the carved dagger (wait, was it going to be THIS dream? This dream never made any sense.) “I find ivory the most pleasant medium for depictions of the human form, don’t you?” Here he secretively brushed his fingers against Xander’s stomach, then began to rub his knuckles there and Xander found his cock, found his whole body, growing hard underneath.  
  
“Not for the elephants, I suppose,” he said breathlessly, furtively looking around the room to see if anyone had noticed his condition. That made the men laugh again, Rupert in particular. “Ah yes, elephants! Ah, Africa!” He turned to fetch another book from the far shelf.  
  
“Quite in love with the queen’s books,” Spike was murmuring in his ear, “Oh yes my dear young Sir, quite enamored with them in every way.” Xander laughed to please Spike, even though he was also grateful that Giles was here. As long as he didn’t get that sinister looking Watcher he could guarantee a feeling of safety when Giles appeared in dreams.  
  
  
“Dost thou think I speak in jest?” Spike was murmuring in his ear now. “But he came singing them love songs them last week. He carried their favor in the joust, and I think he has dishonorable intentions towards the atlases…” Xander covered his mouth that no one would hear his chuckled. “By Mary, late at night, when the candles are out and all are abed, he comes into the library and whispers his yearnings to them, caressing them with one gentle hand and himself with another…Mary yes! I’ve caught him at it. He lets his breeches fall and wraps his fingers around his heavy cock, placing it gently upon his favorite pages and …. what? I’ve seen it with my own eyes, Xander, the man is hung like a horse.”  
  
Sir Alexander gasped and then choked, coughing to cover it, and was then horrified to see Rupert himself approaching him.  
  
“Was that quite enough, need you another?”  
  
“Oh no, I am certainly most engrossed with this, thank you sir,” Xander whimpered.  
  
“Then turn the page. Books, young Sir Knight, you shall find all your answers there.”  
  
“Ah, the sacred chalice,” he said as Alexander turned the page. The page (mercifully free of words) showed a decorated cup as might grace a king’s table. “The sacred blade is plunged into the chalice at the height of the sacred drama, a most holy moment.”  
  
“Pray, is this the holy grail?” Xander asked, trying to examine the picture (which would be so much easier if Spike wasn’t so firmly rubbing his back and shoulders.) The decorations on the cup seemed to show knights on a quest.  
  
“It is a symbol of the secret vessel of a woman, that which she guards, her sacred treasure,” Spike was purring into his ear, his hands making it quite clear he was completely uninterested in a woman’s sacred space.  
  
“That is clear,” Xander managed, clearing his throat. “But what of these?” Here he pointed to the image of the pair of knights.  
  
“Ah,” Spike said, turning the page, “These are two men working together, so that they might mutually achieve their shared desire.”  
  
“This is a railway hand-cart.”  
  
“Oh yes, quite.” Here he turned THAT page to show more medieval knights. Again, they were marching towards some unknown destination.  
  
“Here we are, two men working together, two bodies working together, finding a way they might mutually reach their common goal.”  
  
They turned another page which depicted a man, naked, on his hands and knees, a collar around his neck. Xander started badly, but Spike held him close and turned the page quickly. “No fear of that, Sir, no need for it at all. Many things in the world more frightening than…. oh my…..”  
  
The next page depicted a sunrise. Xander turned the page quickly for his teacher, and Spike looked relieved.  
  
The next page showed two armed Spartans facing each other, nose to nose, toe to toe, weapons raised. “Two bodies working together, finding ways they might mutually achieve their shared desire.” Spike whispered.  
  
Here he began pressing his large hand against Xander’s chest, rubbing suggestively. “There are many ways,” he was whispering, his lips almost touching the boy’s ear. “There are many, many ways for two bodies to work together.” Alexander shivered and Spike removed his hand, only to drop it to Xander’s lap to rest on his upper thigh, thumb caressing the (too thin!) fabric of his leggings. “Unless, of course, you find it more acceptable for a man to be with a woman, in which case I would be delighted to instruct you on certain specifics….”  
  
“Oh my goodness no, women terrify me,” Alexander was whispering. But when Spike reached up to caress his face he took the hand in both of his and held in firmly. “Please, Sir….”  
  
“Have I done something wrong?” the Count was asking him, his eyes serious and piercing. “Have I done anything that displeases you?” “Oh no please Sir, do not think that. But your Grace,….Spike, I do so wish you would not do these untoward things here.”  
  
“Think not of it, my bold Sir Knight.” he said, moving in to brush his lips against Xander’s trembling mouth in a chaste kiss. “These are my brothers, and they know of my intentions toward you.”  
  
“But *I* do not,” Xander pleaded. “Please, Sir, you know I am most innocent of these things. I only know I wish to be alone with you. Can we not be alone together?”  
  
Spike leaned back casually and looked around the hall, and Xander leaned back as well, trying to maintain a look of calm, a look of propriety, even though his heart was pounding and his breath was coming in gasps. Spike took in the remaining knights, now clutching each other and swearing fealty one to another (as they always did when the wine was all drunk up) and the queen was still tormenting the mistrals with her constant questions, and Rupert who was looking for another book.  
  
“’Tis nigh midnight. Excuse yourself now. Let them congratulate you, then find your bed. Within the hour I shall take my leave of the Queen.” He murmured, not in Xander’s ear but low enough for Xander to hear, “After your brothers are abed and you no longer hear the servants about, leave them. If they are still awake, tell them you cannot sleep and you are going to the chapel to pray. Then come to me. My servant Angel will let you in – have no fear of his eye, he is a dangerous man but he will never harm you for fear of my wrath. When you come I’ll put all my servants out and….” here he turned his eyes to Xander again, and Xander felt his knees grow weak. “…..and you shall have me completely and utterly to yourself.”  
  
Xander heart skipped a beat and he nodded mutely.  
  
“My bonny young squire, now a stalwart man,” Spike whispered and gently stroked his trembling chin.  
  
“By the rood, do stop PESTERING the boy while he struggles to read, Spike! Holy God…”  
  
“RUPERT I have specifically bid you NOT speak that way in my presence, unless, perhaps, you are praying??”  
  
“Perhaps I am.” Rupert replied stiffly.  
  
Spike sputtered. “To whom?”  
  
“Does it matter?”  
  
“Oh look, good fellows, this page has WORDS on it!” Alexander said quickly, desperate to distract the two older men, knowing he needed the approval of them both. “And look, I find I CAN read this bit!”  
  
And he was more than delighted to find that, when he turned the page, he could read the words, or at least get the gist of them, and this is what he read:  
  
Xander was younger and shorter and woefully ignorant, Spike was older and taller and eager to inform. They lay in the lamplight in some Victorian bedroom, in some ornate four-poster bed, Xander in Spike’s arms, being willingly (and most carefully) seduced.  
  
“In the night, when you are alone, in the darkness where none can see you, your hands idle, what do you do to amuse yourself?”  
  
Xander, face burning against his teacher’s chest, whimpers (most properly) “Must I speak of it?”  
  
“Will you not show me?” came the whispered request that could not be denied. Then a loving hand covers his and, with infinite tenderness, guides his hand to his own erection, and the older man moans as the boy starts to demonstrate.  
  
  
“Excellent” Sir Spike whispered, “Well read. And think nothing of the mess, the queen will see to it at sunrise.”  
  
“The queen???” Xander asked, suddenly alarmed. “The queen adores me,” the Count was whispering, cupping his cheek. “No fear,”  
  
“Your Grace…..Spike,” Xander found himself struggling to speak, “I’m confused.”

"Of course you are, my boy," he growled suddenly. "Therefore you should wake up!"


	2. Parings: Willow/Tara Xander/Tara Spike/Willow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I credit all this herblore to Scott Cunningham. 
> 
> "Welcome-home-lover-however-so-drunk" and "love-lies-bleeding" and "organ-broth" and "witchesherb" are folk names for common herbs.
> 
> "Lover Come Lately" however is an herb of my own invention.

Xander's head pulled up suddenly. He had fallen asleep in chemistry, his head down on the table. Luckily there was no one else in the room, it was after dark in the chemistry lab and soon Spike would be coming to kidnap them. “I dreamed we were going to church” he told Willow, who glared. “You ARE in church,” she scolded, thunking down a jar of something green labeled “w _itchesherb._ ” Tara bent over him to open the jar and flash him a pleasant smile. “It’s basil, sacred to Mars.”  
  
“Thanks,” Xander said, feeling relieved, and grateful for Tara’s warm smile and bent-over position offering a generous view ofher generous top. _”Tara is one seriously hot babe. Good for you, Willow.”_ Xander thought, mentally high-fiving the girl who was, after Oz, his best friend.  
  
Although why Willow was wearing a black leather bustier was beyond him. He blinked at her predatory grin, and blinked again when she approached him on stiletto heels  
  
“ _Lover-come-lately_?” she asked him, handing him a mortar and pestle full of something green and leafy. “Huh? That’s a weird question for me, since your girlfriend is right here.” Xander said, nodding at Tara, who only smiled again and continued chopping up the bloodroot.  
  
Willow laughed – “Yes, let’s analyze that one for a minute….who were the girls Xander got a hardon for in high school? The two he could never have and the one that could never hurt him.” She looked meaningfully at Tara, who held up the chopping knife. _“Welcome-home-husband,_ an herb sacred to Jupiter” she announced, taking out another green plant. He was vaguely aware that Spike was in the room, shirtless as usual, cooking over a Bunsen burner, and Anya had her nose buried in a huge book on Communism.  
  
“Hey!” he said, wounded by the analysis, even from his old friend. “I cheated on Cordelia Chase, I’m a straight as they come!” At least that’s what he tried to say, but his voice was straining, and he wondered if he should ask Spike to brew him up a tea of the herb he was crushing. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Hey, all of you, I’ll have you know Ampata was all over me.”  
  
“Demon” Spike growled, his bare back still turned to the group. “They can’t resist you.”  
  
“I know I can’t!” Anya called out cheerfully, her nose buried in another book, and Xander grinned at how happy she sounded.  
  
“I know *I* can’t” Spike growled again, then turned to Willow. “Is it ready yet?”  
  
“Lover-come-lately?” Xander choked out, gesturing to the herbs he held in his hand.  
  
“THAT’S not it, that’s the organ-broth.”

“You want me to crush….ewwww,” Xander started, looking into the pestle, expecting that, in the malleable fabric of dreams, something disgusting would appear, but to his relief the green springs remained green.  
  
“It’s not a broth of _organs_ , stupid,” Willow scolded (while running her painted fingernails up and down Spike’s bare arm, then his bare ribs, trying to get his attention, ) “It’s what you brew into a broth FOR your organs. It’s pennyroyal, sacred to Demeter and it’s good for seasickness, unless you charge it magically by a full moon, and then it’s good for this…”  
  
Here she ran a sprig over Spike’s naked back and Xander suddenly found himself growling through clenched teeth, his hackles raised. Spike’s head snapped to one side to confront the smirking Willow. “Hot” he whispered suggestively, lowering his head to her leering face.  
  
“Mine” Xander was trying to say (as well as he could remember English) keenly aware his ears were lying back against his head.  
  
“Actually, she’s mine,” Tara said soothingly, scratching him behind his ear, bringing immediate calm. “They’re just playing. Crush this now.” She handed him a handful of red petals. “ _Love-lies-bleeding_.” Xander started, his eyes flying to Spike (who was now running his tongue from the center of Willow’s cleavage up to her chin) but Tara laughed and kissed his face. “Don’t worry, that’s just another name for pansies. Sacred to Saturn. Straight up they’re good for loneliness, but say the right spell and they’re good for this…..” she stroked his neck with a soft petal and it cooled him like a spring breeze. He sighed in relief and sagged against Tara’s beautiful, solid frame, one hand cupping her amble behind, unperturbed, for the moment, by the steaming looks being exchanged between his Vampire and his Witch. He dipped his head down to lay on her shoulder, enjoying being this close to her lovely curves, while all the time Spike was threading his long, pale fingers into Willow’s red hair, purring as she started lapping a tongue across the wounded chest.  
  
“Welcome home, husband” Tara whispered, slipping a hand full of petals under Xander’s shirt and rubbing them across his navel. The icy sensation brought shivers down his spine, and when she started to push them down into his boxers his whole body stood at attention. “Anya, help me!” he was panting, shoving the other woman way from him, looking for his girlfriend desperately, but she still had her nose in the huge book.

“I’m very content right now!” she called out, waving at them all without looking up.

“That’s not a good book for you, Anya, it’s for grownups, Xander was trying to say.

“*I* am grown up, Xander. *You’re* not, because you’re not married yet.” then started reading out loud from the book. “Karl Marx posited that communism would be the final stage in society, which would be achieved through a proletarian revolution and only possible after a transitional stage….” she said, and….  
  
…..“He’s making a present for you,” Tara was saying, “Act surprised.”  
  
He pushed her away and lurched towards Spike and Willow, who were now only touching foreheads, but exchanging looks that were beyond obscene. “Lover-come-lately?”  
  
Willow inserted two fingers in between Spike’s lips and he sucked on them greedily, then she pulled away. Turning towards Xander, dropping the whip and ridding crop, he was pleased to see that she had suddenly become just-Willow again. She smiled sweetly and touched his hand as she passed. “Go to him Xander. I’ll understand.” He nodded to her, relieved.  
  
But when the shirtless Spike turned to him he was appalled to see blood pouring from gashes across his chest, bullet wounds in his neck, bruises covering his face and one horrible black patch growing up from his crushed pelvic girdle.  
  
“I don’t know if I’m supposed to be horny or afraid” he asked helplessly.

“Make a choice” Spike wheezed, collapsing into his arms and pulling up for a kiss. Then _wake up_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos? Comments? As my loyal readers know... comments make the chapters come faster...


	3. Pairings: Xander/Buffy Buffy/Angel Spike/Xander Spike/Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xander's sex-dream has turned into a many chaptered affair. Because I have a lot to say about what Xander's going through trying to figure out how he fell in love with this guy when he thought he was in love with a girl. And the question of "what is right and wrong" really depends on what church you're sitting in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note:
> 
> WHENEVER I hear Spike describe the "mob in Prague" I must struggle to remember he means Prague (rhymes with dog) in Checkoslovakia, home of the Shrine of the Infant, not Prague (rhymes with plague) Oklahoma, which also has a shrine of the Infant.
> 
> I have visited the one in Oklahoma.  
> \----------------------------------------------------------
> 
> Author's note:
> 
> Spike's note quotes from Altercatio Ganimedis et Helene and you know what is weird? I can't find the text on-line anywhere. I thought EVERYTHING was online somewhere. I'll find the whole thing and link it here eventually.

Xander woke with a start and a cry that was muffled by Buffy’s small hand. She held him close to her body with strong, determined arms, nor did she release him until he stopped shaking. Then she stroked his face with her soft gloved fingers as he buried his nose in the hair that wasn’t covered by her hat. They settled back into the hard wooden pew, still holding each other.  
  
The church was huge and foreign and gilded and arched. The altarpiece at the front held a statue of a child in clothing that no child would ever feel comfortable in, something royal and pope-like. Xander and Buffy were very properly attired in many layers in the cold and drafty sanctuary, and they clung to each other for a long time. It probably was not proper behavior in church, but the sanctuary was mostly deserted, and given how much money their family had donated to the place it would certainly be hard to find anyone to condemn them. “I had the worst dream,” he whispered finally. “Spike was badly wounded, and bleeding.”  
  
“Don’t look at me,” Buffy whispered back. I haven’t done anything to his body in _weeks_. You?”  
  
“I’ve been doing _several_ things to his body, actually,” Xander started......  
  
“Eww! Xander,” she slapped his chest, pulling back in mock-disgust, but not so much they couldn’t continue their quiet conversation.  
  
Two priests walked down the isle. “Můžete mluvit česky?” And “Nikdo mluví česky zde.” Replied the other. They nodded to the boy and girl clutching each other in the otherwise empty pew and continued on their way.  
  
“FIRST you fell asleep in church like a little kid, which is bad enough. But you can’t talk about doing THAT to Spike here,” She snuggled back into his arms and he pulled her close, holding on so tightly his arms hurt, marveling that, even here among the heavy smell of frankincense he could still smell _her_.  
  
“There’s a lot of things two bodies can do together, ways they can work mutually to a common goal…” he found himself telling her gently, knowing she’d understand his meaning, even though, just now, he was thinking more about how _her_ body would feel under his, and how much their bodies could be doing together, ways they could work mutually.  
  
“I know,” she assured him.  
  
“And I’ve been doing _some_ of those things with Spike.” He glanced down nervously at her face, but it was hidden from him under her hat.  
  
“You, me, Willow, Dawn, Angel….I think _everyone_ wants to have sex with Spike. Spike is strong and mysterious, compact, but well muscled…”  
  
“Yeah,” Xander agreed, relieved. He was growing hard but he had no fear that she should discover it, since she was fully aware of the hard man they were talking about. “But I haven’t always been clear on all of the _how_ ….”  
  
“Have you asked him?”  
  
“It’s kind of hard to talk about.”  
  
She pulled away from him suddenly, but only to free up her hands.  
  
_//Have-tried-signing?//_ she signed to him with broad gestures, causing him to look around sheepishly to see if anyone was watching, but the vast church was mostly deserted.  
  
_//Can’t//_ he signed back with small movements, his hands in his lap, hidden. _//Don’t-know-words-for-sex-positions-in-ASL.//_ “They weren’t in the sign language book,” he said out loud, defeated.  
  
“Alespoň nejste mluví česky.” commented a passing priest, who they waved at half-heartedly.  
  
“What was that?” Xander asked, but Buffy just shrugged. “He’s not scolding us, we’re grown ups.”

“Well _you_ are, _I’m_ not, I’m not married yet.”

“Whatevs….” She sighed, and he pulled her close again, marveling at how well she still fit into the angles of his body.

“It’s hard to know what’s right and wrong….it’s hard to know what to do. It’s so much easer with a girl (and here he found himself looking at her hands, thinking about how strong they were, what nice things they could be capable of doing if they were under his jacket, under his vest, under his shirt….)  
  
“I know, big brother. I know you’ve had problems.”  
  
“You know it would be a lot easier to think of you as my sister if you weren’t so damn _hot_.”  
  
“Yeah, I get that a lot. From Faith, mostly, but Xander…..” she pulled away to face him, speaking gently (and her hands were rubbing his legs gently too.) “…we’re in Prague for goodness sakes, so unless you’re just now learned to speak _česky_ you’ve got nothing to worry about. Just go to confession and say it all in English, these guys won’t have the slightest idea what you’re saying! They grant you absolution and then it will all be _right_ again.”  
  
“Confession?” Xander asked, pulling her close with one arm, and as she snaked her hands underneath his suit coat he looked around the ornate church in confusion. Sure enough, there was a wall of confessionals to one side, where well-dressed men and women waited their turn to be heard. Their eyes were lowered and they seemed intent on their inward journeys, so it was certainly all right for him to reach out with his other hand and trace the outline of her breasts with gentle fingers, then using the flat of his knuckles to brush the place where her nipples must be, covered up with layers and layers (and layers) of stiff fabric and lace.  
  
“Will you slay me now?” he asked as her eyes fluttered closed, and they fluttered open again.

“What?”

“It’s just, usually at this point in the dream it usually turns into the ‘I became a Vampire and Buffy has to stick wood into me……oh ok I just now got that,” he grinned and Buffy, eyes closed, grinned back.

“No slaying, please, this feels nice,” she breathed, putting her hand on his, smiling as he used his whole hand to skillfully massage her breasts through the fabric, eliciting moans and tiny sighs.

“I’m not a stuttering school-boy anymore,” he confided. “I’m almost grown-up, practically married….”

“ _Practically_ …..” she conceded, and then…  
  
“There’s the confessional priest now!” she squealed right in his ear, causing him to pull back suddenly, a feeling of guilt coming over him like a wave, but pulling up short when he saw who she was squealing about.  
  
Standing at the door of one was solemnly dressed and leering _Angel_.

“Wait, Buffy, that’s not a priest,” he was trying to say, trying to warn her, but she was bouncing up and out of her seat.

“Oooh! My turn…I LOVE small-wooden-box sex! Oh get over it,” she warned Xander when he growled his disapproval. “You’ve got your _own_ Vampire….he’s right over there.”  
  
Xander’s heart leapt, all his troubles forgotten, as he looked to the front of the sanctuary and there, thank God in Heaven, was Spike, unharmed, well dressed and waiting quietly. He was wearing a modern suit (but so was Xander) and he was standing beside the first pew, looking amused. “Go to him,” Buffy was calling out breathlessly, rushing off to her sacrilegious encounter. “And don’t be afraid to kneel with him. Don’t worry about your fear of that hands-and-knees position, he hates it to, Angelus did that to him once…..” but then her too-loud voice was, thankfully, silenced as she disappeared into the confessional.  
  
“ _Jesus_ Buffy, ooops…” Xander bit his lip, ashamed of blaspheming, but as he walked up to Spike he saw that the man was clenching his jaw, trying hard not to laugh. “Girls, it’s easier with girls,” he murmured in the quiet church, which just made the man laugh even more. Both trying to keep their composure they walked side by side up to the prayer bench, where it smelled less of frankincense and more of tobacco. There they knelt side by side, back straight, heads bowed, hands clasped in front of them.  
  
“I’m so damn glad to see you, Spike.” he said quietly, and no truer words were spoken in church. “I can’t speak Czech to save my life.”  
  
“No one can, love. That’s why the mass is in Latin.”  
  
“Um…..so……” Xander whispered, trying to remember if he was supposed to be speaking Czech or English. “Is this a position? Can we do it in this position?”  
  
Spike blanched and Xander blushed instantly. DAMN you Buffy, who did you think you were, making him think you could just _ask questions_ about sex?  
  
But Spike seemed to be turning him down for other reasons. “Can’t do it **here** , Pet. We’re in a church.”  
  
“Are we?” Xander looked up curiously. The walls were gone, the sky was visible, the overpowering incense was missing and all he could smell was pine trees. The altar before which they knelt, and the towering altarpiece in front of them all seemed to be of stone, and Xander realized that they were now in a kind of sacred grotto. (Xander smiled when he realized he knew the word ‘grotto.’)  
  
“Church is church, Pet. We’re christened, married and buried in church. Here’s where they make the rules.”  
  
“Are you safe, here?”  
  
“No…..sunrise soon. Sunrise is bad for me. Also they plan on shooting me outside that wall sometime tonight, I think.”  
  
“Please don’t say that,” Xander said suddenly, but Spike only scoffed. He fought down the fear rising in his chest, struggling to remember the important questions he needed Spike to answer.  
  
“Angel,” he started, mistaking that sick feeling in his stomach for another train of thought. “Buffy said that…. Angel? He never, he never made you…..”  
  
“Don’t think about Deadboy, love. What did you want to ask me?”  
  
“I need help,” Xander asked, almost begged. “Do you speak Czech? I need to know some words for the male body parts.”  
  
“ _Zeus took the form of an eagle to seize Ganymede_... oh wait, that’s Greek. What do you want to tell the priests here, exactly?”  
  
“I need to _ask_ them something. I need to ask them what’s right and wrong.”  
  
“Ask him,” Spike said, indicating with his head the figure in the stone alcove above him, the one they were kneeling before. Xander raised his head and was surprised to see the statue of the child had disappeared, replaced by a black, nude figure sporting horns and a serious erection.  
  
“Is…is that….”  
  
“ _Please_ don’t say ‘Is that Satan.’ Giles will be so disappointed. This fellow _predates_ Satan by a great deal. And also, Satan’s not that well hung.”  
  
“I was _going_ to say, ‘Is that the One?’ Is that Who makes the rules?”  
  
“You’re in His church, now. Go ahead and ask Him. He’ll tell you it’s right, He says everything is right.”  
  
“Then what good is He? There’s no point coming here if He’s just going to say ‘yes’ to everything.  
  
“Hmmm…. well, there’s a man down the street what wears a big sandwich sign. He says everything is wrong – has a list. He’ll tell you it’s all wrong.”  
  
“How does that different?”  
  
“Xander, pet …..what are you at? You never cared about church before, why do you care now?” Xander tried to skirt the truth, but when the pale face turned to look at him with piercing eyes he found his heart was pounding and his mouth was dry. Words were gone, and the truth was all that was left to say.  
  
“Because…” he choked, breathless with the effort. “Because when you touch me, I feel holy.”  
  
What Spike made of this confession he couldn’t tell, he only knew they were back in the first church, and the priests seemed to be preparing for mass.  
  
“The mob is coming,” Spike was telling him, looking around. “I have to leave now.”  
  
“Take me with you, I just need to be alone with you,” Xander whispered desperately. Spike nodded and took his hand.  
  
“There’s that non-denominational church at the end of Marster’s street, it’s halfway in-between. Maybe they’ll know the answer.” He said as he rose, and Xander rose with him, nodding.

“I like it there. The nuns flirt with me there.”

Spike chuckled. “But if it’s _questions_ you have pet, Giles will know. He knows _lots_ of big words, he’ll set you straight.”

“Giles? Giles won’t know about this, he wears way too much tweed.”

“That Watcher knows a _lot_ of things, pet. Plus he’s hung like a _horse_ , and he can fuck like a stevedore.”  
  
“Don’t sexualize Giles, please, he’s the only father figure I have.”  
  
“I’m just saying pet…..hung like a horse.”  
  
_"Giles_??” Xander said, and his heart began to pound, his head spinning, and he began to flail again, loosing the meaning of the words he was saying. “Spike, does it _hurt_?”  
  
Spike turned to him, his eyes pained. He put his hand to his dark suit color stained red, and looked at the blood with curiosity. “Hmmmm… shot in the collarbone. Three times. Yeah, it hurts. They mean to kill me by the church wall…..here’s the door. Want to see?”  
  
“Yes,” Xander said and made to follow him through a small door beside the baptismal font, then “I mean, **_no_**! Spike…”  
  
Spike pulled up short by the baptismal. There was a piece of folded paper there, which he picked up and read silently. “It’s the note, what I wrote you….” he said, curious. " _Am_ writing you. Will write... It's a poem."

“Can you read it? I can never read in dreams….” Xander asked, throat dry, knowing he’d be called upon to read it after all. To his surprise Spike read  
  


_"The people with power and position in the world –  
The very censors who decide what is sin and what is allowed –  
These men are not immune to the soft thighs of a boy.”  
_

  
  
"Huh. Ganymede again.” He chuckled to himself, as if at an inside joke, then turned serious. “Meet the sunrise outside, then?” he mumbled and disappeared behind the baptismal.

“What, wait!” Xander cried as he rushed to keep up with the fleeting figure in the dim light.

“William!” he cried, relieved to be out of his church clothes, to only be wearing a t-shirt (and tight jeans, William liked tight jeans) which let the clover-scented air cool his sweating body. It was barely sunset and they were alone at the church wall. He was vaguely aware that tears were spilling over his cheeks and, when he pulled his lover around to face him, he was stunned to realize the other man was crying too.

“Nemůžu žít bez tebe” he said, suddenly grateful to find he was speaking clearly. “No puedo vivir sin ti ….no wait, that’s Spanish.”

“You’ve got it right," William said, and his smile was sweet and tender and devastating. “But you can _live_ , moje láska, and you will. I won’t let them hurt you, Tycho, that’s why you’ve got to get away from here.”

“Will you come back to me? Come back to me when it’s all over??” Tycho was begging, but William shook his head. “I could, but you won’t know me, láska. You won’t know what this was all about, you won’t remember. You won’t _want_ me.”

Xander/Tycho reached out to touch his tears, to catch them on his fingertips, but William was  
pulling away, so instead he grabbed his t-shirt front and pushed the sobbing man up against the wall. “Make me remember, mark me, _hurt_ me,” he gasped and slammed his lovers head against the stone in a bruising kiss and Spike, with no chip in his head to thwart him, pushed him to the ground to comply.

“Is this right?” Xander/Tycho sputtered, his mouth pressed into the cool grass as William stripped him of his belt and his jeans, (but this _couldn’t_ be right, because his love was still bleeding.) “Is this what the dream is about?” “No, moje láska” Spike was gasping above him. “This isn’t it. The mob is coming to kill us both and you need to **_wake up!_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Můžete mluvit česky? -- Can you speak Czech?  
> Nikdo mluví česky zde. -- Nobody here speaks Czech.  
> Nemůžu žít bez tebe -- I can't live without you.  
> moje láska -- my love


	4. Pairings: Everyone/Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xander/Oz  
> Willow/Oz  
> Xander/Willow/Oz  
> Spike/Dawn  
> Buffy/Faith  
> Willow/Tara
> 
> And believe me when I say, I was ONLY including pairings that were everywhere on LiveJournal at the time. Minus Buffy/Spike, because that had already been done.

“Hovno ne…. mierda….shit!” Xander swore as he woke, not knowing where he was, not caring. He heard the girls gasp and giggle and still he didn’t care, he kept his eyes clenched tight and kept yelling until strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and his head was held against someone’s chest.  
  
It was _this_ kind of dream. He HATED this kind of dream.  
  
“Shit shit shit” he was swearing, almost sobbing, and he heard a calm voice speak.  
  
“Dude, don’t say shit in front of Giles.” Xander went limp and leaned against the strong, lean arms that were holding him steady. Oz. Thank God.  
  
“Oz,” he sobbed and pulled up to look into that sharp, angled face with relief. “Oh shit Oz, I miss you.”  
  
“I miss you too, buddy,” he said solemnly, “But you’re freaking out Giles again. I think you have to watch your language in this dream, man,” and the giggling girls seemed to agree.  
  
“I’m sorry G-man,” Xander said sheepishly, looking for Giles, who was dressed in his usual school librarian clothes because they were, of course, in the library. He was clutching Oz on the loft steps and Cordi was sitting at his feet, rolling her eyes.  
  
“Yes... er... yes. Yes, quite all right Xander.”

“I dreamt I was in a church.”

Giles raised an eyebrow and gestured around him, and his meaning was obvious. The library, to Giles, WAS church.  
  
Xander tried to sit up. He looked at Oz, sitting by his side, sitting on the same step as him.  
  
“I should have asked _you_ all these questions, Oz. You would have been cool, you wouldn’t freak on me.”  
  
“Kinda had my mind in other places though, Xander. Then there’s the little matter of you kissing my girlfriend... kinda’ ruined it for us.”  
  
“I know, but I was with Cordi and Cordi was _scaring_ me” (Cordelia rolled her eyes again) “And Willow was _safe_. Willow loved me.”  
  
“I loved you too, buddy.” Oz said sadly, and with such solemnity that Xander didn’t doubt it for a moment.  
  
“Don’t be afraid, you’re almost there,” Oz said, grinning, leaning in slightly. "You’re doin’ good...” he whispered, his eyes straying down to rest on Xander’s mouth.  
  
Xander’s hands were at his sides, feeling the smooth wood of the stairs, and he kept them there as leaned closer to his friend, possibly to hear him better, but possibly to indicate…  
  
Now Oz’s eyes were undoubtedly locked onto his mouth, his look turning serious. Hesitantly Xander raised one hand and brought it up to almost touch the stubbled cheek, wondering, hoping….  
  
Then Oz reached his hand around to cup the back of Xander’s head and kissed him with an open mouth. Xander pushed into the kiss with gratitude, even more so when Oz pulled him down and he found himself stretching himself out on top of his friend’s body, thrusting his newly-found erection forward blindly, hoping for friction, hoping for a leg, a groin, _any_ body part to grind against until he could find some release.  
  
“Oh my god, I’ve gotta go” said Cordelia, fleeing, and…  
  
“Demon magnet,” Dawn explained dryly. “Werewolf-demon, vampire-demon, demon-demon, he isn’t picky.”  
  
“It’s just fate, girls.” Giles explained sympathetically, “Boys, _not_ on the loft stairs, it isn’t comfortable. Xander, really, if you would come with me…”  
  
“He said get OFF Xander,” Willow said sharply, pulling them away from each other, wedging herself in-between them, trying to wrap her arms around Oz, glaring. “ _I_ saw him first.”  
  
“Well, to be fair, *I* saw him first” Xander panted, pulling Willow’s back to his chest, his hands boldly grasping her breasts, holding her firmly. “I just didn’t know what to do with him.”  
  
“Did NOT!” Willow argued (but did not resist.)  
  
“He knows what he’s talking about,” Oz said, moving in, pushing her legs apart and running his hands under her skirt, massaging her inner thighs and pushing her up against Xander at the same time.  
  
“Does _not_ ,” Willow snapped, pulling away from Oz, which only meant she was now pushing even harder against Xander’s erection, which was finding lovely friction rubbing against her ass.  
  
“Does too!” Oz growled, moving closer, until his forehead was touching her forehead.

“Does not,” she replied, but when her head snapped up to look at him in amazement, Xander knew what Oz’s fingers were doing. Xander grinned in approval.  
  
“He’s a grown man, and he knows what he’s talking about.” Oz was whispering now, and Xander let his hands roam across the redhead’s breasts, shoulders and stomach. She leaned back into his arms, canting her groin forward into his friend’s ministrations, moaning at the pleasure provided by his nimble fingers, lost in sensation.  
  
“Well, to be fair, **_I’m_** not a grown man yet..." Xander argued. I’m not married.”  
  
“But Spike was here...” she whimpered, turning to nuzzle the side of his face. “He was looking for you.”  
  
“For me?” Xander sat up suddenly, leaving Willow and Oz to each other, looking around the library.  
  
“Yes, he left a book for you Xander,” Giles was saying, and “ _Yes_!” Dawn piped up cheerfully, “One of these books will answer your questions, just look!” and she dropped another arm-load onto the study table.  
  
“ **No**!” Xander shouted in a voice that was certainly louder that was appropriate, but didn’t look towards Giles to see if he was offended. “I swear by God, I swear by Jesus Christ and everyone else in Heaven with him that the answers to my questions are NOT IN THESE BOOKS! I KNOW! I LOOKED through them all ready!”  
  
“Too bad for you,” Dawn said smugly, “I found everything I was looking for _here_ ,” she held up a pink paperback titled “Odpovědi pro dívky.” “Not that it matters, I all ready asked my mom.”  
  
“I’m jealous,” said Tara, who was sitting beside her. “My mom died before we got to have _the talk_ , but she had a sister I could talk to.”  
  
“I asked her if it hurt, and you know what she said?”  
  
“Uh, Dawn, maybe I shouldn’t be here for all this girl talk,” Xander said suddenly and, realizing that Giles was still gesturing for him to follow, and gesturing urgently. He left Oz and Willow rutting on the stairs.  
  
“She took my hand and she said ‘Oh, honey, I asked my mother the same thing, I asked, ‘does it hurt?’ and you know what she said?’ “  
  
“Not listening, not listening…..” Xander said, hands in his ears, running towards Giles who was now leading him into the stacks.  
  
“She said: ‘Oh honey, I asked your grandma the exact same question, ‘does it hurt?....’  
  
“Giles?” Xander squeaked.  
  
“Yes, you had better come with me, Xander, before this scene becomes any more ridiculous,” and Giles pulled him away, and Xander agreed. One glance behind him showed Oz and Veruca, in full-wolf-form, mating with abandon, while Tara was pushing Willow to lay back on the study-table and lifting up her skirt. Faith had arrived and was doing her dirty-dancing routine with Buffy, and Spike was…  
  
… Spike was sitting in a chair with a very tall Dawn in his lap who was currently trying to find his tonsils with her tongue, while his hands roamed under her mini-skirt to explore the new curves with relish.  
  
“Spike!” Xander called out, his voice going up an octave in surprise… “Now I KNOW that’s just wrong!”  
  
“What do you want from me, Harris? She’s all grown up …. Look! She’s taller'n me now!” and Xander couldn’t deny he was looking at a grown Dawn, grinning sidelong at him with painted eyes and cock-sucker lipstick and attitude to spare.  
  
“NO!” Xander shut his eyes to the sight (but, still dreaming, that didn’t work.) “Dawn will always be 15, Dawn will _always_ be 15…..please don’t stake him Buffy….” he called to the Slayer as Giles drug him away.

Buffy had turned from an amorous Faith and was looking at the grownup Dawn quizzically. “Will Spike be a good starter-model?” She asked Xander.

“Well, he does adore her, but…..oh God.” Xander bit down hard to avoid finishing the answer, all the while Buffy kept asking “Will he be gentle with her? Will he answer all her questions?  
  
“Was Xander gentle with you?” she turned to ask Faith, who spoke all her answers into Buffy’s cheek, pulling Buffy’s hands around her to encircle her bare mid-drift. “Don’t remember, Bee, I kicked him out the door as soon as he shot his load.”  
  
“Hey! Being rejected after orgasm makes a person VERY lonely!!” Xander scolded, then turned to Spike again. “Spike, just remember not to push her away when you….”  
  
But Spike was lost in Dawn’s eyes as she held his face firmly in place, whispering “Will it hurt? I asked my mother, and she just smiled at me and said….”  
  
“What,” asked Buffy, turning her face from Faith again. “What did Mom say?” but Faith took her chin in a firm grip and pulled her into a demanding kiss.

The Giles had grabbed him by the hand and pulled him away to saftey.  
  
  
\--------------------------------------------------


	5. Pairings: Giles/Xander

“HELP me British man!” Xander called out as he ascended deeper into the library, catching sight of the librarian for a moment, then losing him. “Giles?” he called, searching through the stacks, trying to hear the calm English voice, sincerely hoping he could leave Dawn’s “mom” story, (and whoever she was telling it to) behind. But the rows and rows of books, in typical dream fashion, were threatening to make him lose his librarian.

“G-man? Rupert? Oh god, Giles, _please_ don’t hide from me…..”  
  
“I’ve always been here for you, Xander, always. "I’m your father figure... I take great pride in that.”  
  
Xander’s shoulders sagged in relief at the sound of the voice behind him. He turned around...

...and stepped into a full and loving embrace. Gratefully he leaned his face against the older man's shoulder, clutching at the tweed jacket, relishing the feel of the buttons on the vest as they pushed through his t-shirt into his chest and breathing in the scent. Of books and parchment and clean and _Giles._  
  
“Father Figure... yeah. Well, not in the George Michael sexy-video way, but, yeah.” He heard a soft chuckle and wasn’t surprised to find the librarian stroking his hair with gentle fingers. He was just grateful the man was happy with him, and willing to help. “I’m so confused, Giles.”  
  
“Yes, well, you’re asleep and you need to wake up soon, Xander," Giles was whispering against Xander's hair. His arms were strong. Not Vampire-strong, but strong. But I’ll answer your questions first.”  
  
“Does it hurt? And do I need to learn Greek now? I had a dream I was in Czechoslovakia, and I was speaking Czech pretty well,”  
  
Giles pulled away enough to look into Xanders face. He smiled. (God he had a beautiful smile, so easy, so honest.) Then he let go of Xander and led him further into the shadows of the shelves.  
  
“Greek, yes well, the Greeks had a word for everything. English, not so much. But it’s perfectly logical that you would be searching for words, Xander, because words help you understand yourself. Sadly it’s hard to read in your dreams, as I’m sure you’ve found.”  
  
“I keep getting _lost_ , Giles. I think there’s something I’m supposed to do.”  
  
“Oh yes, it’s Spike. The sunrise is very dangerous to him, even worse than cigarettes. I’ll show you where he is, soon.” He was moving forward too quickly and Xander reached out to try to take hold of the tail of his jacket for fear of loosing him again.  
  
“On the other hand, Xander, if he WANTS to die, perhaps you should let him...”

But “No, _**no**!_ Giles I don’t think……Giles!” Xander reached out again and took hold of his jacket tails, firmly.  
  
The older man turned around to look at him seriously, the half-light throwing sinister shadows on his glasses and forehead, making Xander shiver.

But Xander didn't have to be afraid. He was dreaming, and he knew it, so he tried to make friendly again. He reached out and straightened the tie... the vest... the jacket... keeping his eyes lowered, needing to _touch_ Giles, needing Fatherly Giles to stay with him, needing to stay safe.  
  
“Don’t be Scary Giles, please, I need you to be Good Giles again. Please don’t be scary.”  
  
“That was always the problem, Alexander," softly. "I was always afraid of scaring you.”  
  
“Spike told me you could help, he said you knew all the words. Why aren’t there any *easy* books with these words?”

Giles reached out and touched Xander's face with a gentle hand. Then he pointed to a shelf behind him. Xander, reluctantly, turned to it.

“We also talked about which churches to go to, which Gods to ask...”  
  
“You won’t find the answers in churches, Xander. You’ll find them in _books_. Words define us and tell us who we are.”  
  
“But I can’t read these words,” Xander pleaded, his eyes skipping over the labels on the bookshelves, knowing that his dream-brain couldn’t read them, anyway, waiting for Giles to scold him, for his dream to turn sour again. “Spike said *you* could help….”  
  
“I know what your Vampire said,” came a predatory whisper close to his ear, a menacing presence at his back. “He said I could fuck you like a stevedore.”  
  
“Giles, what’s a stevedore?” Buffy called from the study tables beneath them, and Xander groaned in frustration.  
  
“A stevedore is a longshoremen, someone who can perform strenuous tasks all night without tiring” Giles called out casually before slipping one broad hand under Xander’s t-shirt and pulling him backward. Xander groaned again, this time in gratitude, leaning back into the older man’s embrace. He was strangely unconcerned with the enormous hardon pressing into his ass, only knowing he was close, close to his release, close to his answers.  
  
“I didn’t know, I didn’t know you felt this way,” he was whispering, clutching the edge of the book shelves with both hands. The shelfs were empty now, and if he looked through them he found himself with a fine view of the writhing people below them... bits of Tara’s head buried between Willow’s legs, bits of Faith and Buffy and their endless bump-and-grind.  
  
“Poor Xander, you have every right to hate me,” Giles was whispering in his ear now, one hand still under his shirt, the other cupping his face, stroking his jaw with a soft thumb. “But you were so young, and it wasn’t appropriate. I’m sorry….”  
  
“Father figure,” Xander murmured, although the strong arms around him, the confident hands weren’t feeling exactly fatherly right at this moment. “I thought you’d be proud of me, when I grew up,”  
  
“I’m proud of you now, and you are grown up.”  
  
“But I’m not married yet,” Xander started to say, finding himself distracted by the Slayers dancing together so far below him, Buffy’s back pressed into Faith’s chest, Faith’s hands seemed to be pressed between Buffy’s thighs, her lips pressed against Buffy’s hair.  
  
“Neither am I," he murmured as soft fingertips brushed Xander's lips. He moaned as Xander began to touch them with the tip of his tongue. "..and I’ve always been a grownup to you, yes? he asked before turning Xander's back for a kiss.  
  
“I should have told you before. I am proud of you, Alexander Harris. I’m sorry you didn’t know.”  
  
“Don’t apologize,” Xander whispered back, taking the hand away from his face and placing it on top of his aching cock.

“Yes, well, I still might choose to be apologetic, it’s only proper.” Giles responded as he drug well-manicured nails across Xander’s stomach until he had freed his hand from the t-shirt, and used that hand to unzip Xander’s fly.  
  
“I knew you’d know the answers…” Xander tried to say, although words, right now, seemed pointless. ”I’d know you could tell me what’s right…..”  
  
“ _This_ is right,” the man whispered, wrapping one sure hand around Xander’s aching erection, “and _this_ is left,” cupping the other hand gently under his tightening balls. “Oh no! I meant right and ……ahhh…….” and in the shadows of the bookstacks, amid the smell of tweed and safety, Xander’s release was sweet and easy and understood.

Sensation poured into his fingertips, poured down to his toes, and he tried, as he panted, to communicate just how damn good he felt to the man who held him now.  
  
When his vision cleared he was still holding onto the bookshelf, and Giles’ strong arms were still holding him. “That’s weird, I usually wake up at this point,” Xander whispered, trying not to sound ungrateful, but Giles only chuckled and kissed his cheek.  
  
“Maybe you’re waiting for them to finish,” he whispered back, nodding at the bodies, still writhing below them.  
  
Looking down they could see a completely different Dawn, still grown but no longer made up like a whore, sitting on Spike’s lap, her feet planted firmly on the floor, her hands holding onto the back of the chair, riding him slow and steady. His hands gripped the legs of his chair, his head thrown back. He was whispering pledges of love, calling her “Little Bit,” and it surprised Xander that he felt no jealousy at all, even though Spike’s eyes were so full of obvious worship.  
  
“Devoted,” Giles said, and Xander nodded.  
  
Willow was coming and grinning at the same time, Tara completely covered up in her skirt, whereas Buffy was spent all ready, whimpering and trembling in Faith’s strong arms. Oz and Veruca seemed to have taken to higher ground. Spike was moaning now and when they looked back at him they could see Dawn finish. She rested her head on his shoulder, looking tired and proud. Xander wasn’t surprised to see tears running down Spike’s face and he smiled, knowing Dawn would soon hold his head in her arms, the same way Drusilla had always done.  
  
“Merciful Zeus,” Xander breathed, perhaps speaking for Spike, and he heard Giles chuckle. “Well yes, the Greeks again. They can be very helpful in these circumstances.” His lips were still against Xander’s face, his breath was familiar, his arms strong, and as he zipped Xander back into his pants and Xander wondered vaguely why Giles wasn’t asking for any sexual acts in return.  
  
“I think we went to a Greek church, or a grotto or something, that’s a good word, ‘grotto’…”  
  
“Excuse me, why are we still discussing churches, Xander?”  
  
“Because I need to find out about holiness ….. because…..” Xander’s voice began to tremble, the answers he thought he had slipping away from him again. “Because that’s where they tell you what’s **right** , I thought…..I thought you would tell me what’s **right** , Giles.”  
  
“I did.”  
  
“Not right and LEFT, right and wrong.”  
  
“Xander, you didn’t ask me the difference between right and wrong, you asked me for the right _words_ ….because the right words define us, tell us who we are.”  
  
“But no…..I don’t need to know what it’s _called_ , I need to know if…..  
  
“For God’s sake, Xander, do you think you were the first married man to wake up in the arms of another **man** and realize _you had been lying to yourself your whole life_?”  
  
Xander opened his mouth, but nothing came out of it. He found himself pulling away from the man behind him, pulling away from the shelves, finding himself sandwiched between books and a librarian and pushing to free himself.  
  
“Xander…”  
  
“Go to hell Rupert.” Xander snapped and struggled to drag himself out of a nonsensical dream that was suddenly making too much sense all together.  
  
“Yes, well, if that was the big reveal then perhaps then this is the appropriate moment to wake up……”  
  
Xander clenched a fist and pulled back to punch the bespeckled know-it-all in the mouth but found he couldn’t, because his clenched fists were full of bedsheets and his eyes were full of bright morning light. He had awakened at last.

**Author's Note:**

> You can't leave another kudo, so why not a comment?
> 
> Comments are easy - just cut and paste your favorite line.
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------------
> 
> This story is COMPLETE and a new chapter will be posted every few days. BUT COMMENTS MAKE ME POST FASTER!!!


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